


I’ll Be Home By Snoggletog

by Pen37



Series: To Say Nothing Of The Dragon [6]
Category: Brave (2012), How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Annoying Bards, Carpathian Folklore, Eret didn’t realize that he signed up for these shenanigans, F/M, Hiccup is a Dragon naturalist, Hiccup is most of Merida’s impulse control, Humor, Mericcup, Merida is a bit of a berserker, Storytelling, Vampires, but he did, fractured fairy tales, now it’s too late
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-09 03:13:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17993783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pen37/pseuds/Pen37
Summary: It’s a long way from Constantinople to Berk.   Plenty of time for something to go wrong.In which Merida sings a lot of bawdy Scottish drinking songs, Hiccup discovers new dragons and Eret figures out that he really should have left them alone if he didn’t want a complicated life.





	1. Chapter 1

Toothless glided to the ground near the old menagerie. As he neared the walls, he could tell that something was wrong. The air was thick with smoke.

He stretched to perch on the wall over Hiccup’s rooms, only to encounter empty air. With a surprised growl, he dropped like a stone.

Coughing dust from his throat, he looked around in confusion. What had been Hiccup’s dwelling, was now a smoking crater.

Sweet baby Loki!

Lassie landed on the rock pile nest. She nosed through the rocks, then shook her head. The pack their humans had set aside for leaving was gone.

Toothless shoved aside the remains of the wall and paced the length of the old menagerie.

His mate whuffled reassurances at him. Merida and Hiccup would take care of each other.

But Toothless wasn’t reassured. If there was trouble out there, Hiccup and Merida could be trusted to run into it face-first.

Right. Time to find his person (and his person’s person).

Toothless launched himself back into the air, Lassie close behind, headed to the dome of the Hagia Sophia. From there, they could decide which quarter of the city to search first.

—

Hiccup awoke in the predawn hours, wedged against the side of the ship.  Merida’s head pillowed on his chest, a blanket and the four Terrors wrapped around them both. Her shorter hair puffed out around her head like a dandelion.

He scanned the ship as he had done each morning since their hurried departure from Constantinople. But still no Toothless.

He buried his nose in Merida’s hair, breathing her scent deeply and trying to draw what comfort he could from her presence. Trying to shut the disappointment away in a little box in the corner of his heart.

Both Merida and Eret believed that Toothless would find them when he and Lassie were ready. He’d just have to hope that they were right.

Speaking of — Eret sat nearby, nursing a mug of something that, judging by his expression, he’d really rather not be drinking.

“Good morning Master Artificer,” he said cheerfully. “Would you care to wake the Princess, there? We’ve got business to discuss.”

Hiccup nudged Merida.

“Fve mre minutes, Mum.” Merida mumbled against his chest.

“Young Macintosh said he’s a better archer than you,” Hiccup whispered.

“I’ll show that gormless dandy!” Merida sat up, tossing dragons off of her, eyes flashing. Then she realized where she was. “Oh.”

The four dragons squeaked at her in annoyance, then flew away to perch in the rigging.

“Good morning sunshine,” Eret said cheerfully.

“What do ye want?” Merida groaned, trying to finger comb her hair into a semblance of . . . Well, anything that wasn’t the head of a thistle.

“I like that! Here I am with a change of clothes for The Princess, and yet here she is heaping abuse on me.” Eret grinned as he produced a bundle of fabric.

Hiccup watched his wife out of the corner of his eye. In addition to the wreckage of her hair, Merida was wearing his clothing-the only thing she could salvage after she’d blown up their quarters as they fled Constantinople. The tunic and breeches hung off her, making her look like a scarecrow.

Merida unrolled the proffered cloth and examined it. There was an undyed linen shift and a blue kyrtle with blue and green trim at the neck, wrists and ankles. Next came an apron- style overdress in green also with green and yellow trim, a set of turtle brooches linked with amber and silver beads, a leather belt and a gray wool kaftan. There was also a kerchief for her to tie over her ruined hair.

“Where did all this come from?” Merida asked suspiciously.

“Gunnar has an entire chest of clothing he plans to take back to his daughter. I convinced him to part with this.”

Merida looked surprised. “At was verra thoughtful, Eret. Thank ye both.”

“Just remember: if we get attacked on the trip. Your arrows go in the bad guys, not me.”

Merida gave him a sour look. “I’ll take it under advisement.”

For some reason Hiccup couldn't quite fathom, Eret seemed to relish picking on Merida. It wasn’t flirting. Hiccup had seen Snotlout fail at that enough times that he could recognize the difference.

This seemed almost brotherly. More like the twins behaved toward each other. Hiccup wondered what Eret’s home life had been like and if Merida reminded him of a sibling, if not in appearance then at least in attitude.

Then again, maybe he just found the idea that Merida was a princess hilarious.

“I also brought you breakfast,” Eret said. He gave them each a mug of some kind of thick, soupy pottage mixed with stout amber beer. Merida made a face.

“Best eat it,” Eret said. “There won’t be anything else until we reach Basarabi tonight.”

Hiccup took up his own mug and tried to eat fast enough that the sour taste and cold, grainy, congealed texture of the pottage wouldn’t register. Nevertheless, he shuddered at the flavor after his third bite. It reminded him of yacknog, only thicker.

Merida sighed, but followed his example.

“We’ll stay overnight in Basarabi so we can trade our Drakkar for a few Karvi.” He patted the boat’s decking as he spoke. “Those are smaller vessels that we can take inland up the rivers and portage overland if we need to, Princess.

“The dragons will need to stay with the cargo, and out of sight,” he continued. “We’ll re-provision and pick up some things that will turn a profit along the way. May as well make some money,” he muttered. “If you can, keep an ear out for the local folklore. I’ve known dragon trappers who went into those mountains and never come back.”

Hiccup perked up. “There are dragons in the mountains?”

“And other things.” Eret gave Hiccup a quelling look. “Things that caused some of the best dragon trappers I know to vanish. Things that are said to drink blood.”

“We’re a long way from the lands o’ the Tuatha Dé Danann,” Merida said. I’m nae really sure how much help I would be.”

“You were a lot of help with the unicorn, Eret said. “I have a feeling that what you learn may be vital.”

“What sort o’ blood drinkers?”

“Witches? Ghosts? Corpses that walk?” Eret shrugged. “Maybe all three. I’ve seen from you two that not all stories are just stories.”

“We’ll see what we can find out.” Merida said.

—

Ramsnort The Tuneful had a few ambitions in life. One of which was for people to remember his name from Agrabah to Arendale. The other was that they didn’t laugh when they heard it.

What he really wanted was to be known as Ramsnort the Great. To accomplish that, all he needed was an epic tale he could tell. Something that would stir the blood of the most stalwart warrior and touch the tender heart of the fairest maiden.

The problem was that most of the really good stories were already written. The story of the princess from Corona with the really long hair. The German princess with all the little dwarves and the apple, even the French maid with the glass slipper.

It seemed that whenever he heard rumors of a good story, by the time he made it to the sources another bard had already immortalized the news in ode form.

But not this time.

He’d been in Athens learning “Zero to Hero,” the song about Heracles, when a fishing vessel bearing the markings of none other than The Bear Princess sailed into port, bound for Rome.

That got his attention.

He’d been in DunBroch when the princess had turned her mother into a bear. And he’d written a catchy little ditty.

Okay, maybe he’d embellished a thing or two. No, the Queen hadn’t died. And no, the King hadn’t tried to replace the Queen with the Princess. And no, the Princess didn’t turn herself into a bear to avoid the marriage to the King.

But did Ramsnort really deserve to be banished from Scotland for his masterpiece? After all, he’d been the one to coin the term “The Bear Princess.” Didn’t he deserve some credit?

Now he hovered around the dockyards and The local taverna, trying not to be too obvious in case someone remembered the “slanderous story of the Princess” and the “bard who’d maligned the King’s reputation.”

From the Scottish sailors, he discovered that The Bear Princess was now wed to The Dragon Master of the North. Now _that_ was a power couple! And that they were in Constantinople, to boot!

He set off immediately. But once in Constantinople, he’d had to be circumspect. After all, the last time he’d seen the princess, she was threatening to run him through with her sword.

So he’d kept his distance, collecting stories second hand. He’d heard from a fishmonger that the princess had single-handedly captured a unicorn (as only a virtuous maid could do. Obviously she and the Dragon Master had a chaste, courtly romance.)

Then he’d heard rumors that his protagonists had fled the city, burning down the palace and stealing away a goodly chunk of the Varangian Guard in the process.

There was nothing for it. He’d “borrowed” one of the horses from the Hippodrome and rode with all haste for Basarabi.

Through some miracle, he’d made it there ahead of the ship. He’d then discovered, to his great delight, that he’d arrived in a grape-growing region. Which meant better wines than the fair-to-middling vintages of near-vinegar he’d sampled in most of the tavernas he could afford.

Now he sat in yet another taverna nursing a half-bottle of a red wine with an unpronounceable name. He was certain that The Bear Princess and The Dragon Master would have to stop in at some point. As this was the taverna closest to the docks, it was almost certain.

A head of red hair near the stairs caught his attention. He squinted through his bloodshot eyes at the young couple coming to sit at the next table. The skinny young man spread an assortment of odd tools over the table and commenced to disassemble his own metal foot.

The girl started to finger-comb her exceedingly short hair.  She looked very much like the triplet princes of DunBroch.

He knew, because during his stay in Scotland they’d knocked him over and sat on his chest. One of them had let a trail of spit dangle down until it nearly touched his face before slurping it back several times.

One tended not to forget a face when it was spit-torturing you.

Now that he looked harder, he was pretty sure the red-haired girl was The Bear Princess. Which meant the other youth was probably The Dragon Master.

Wait! What? That couldn’t be right!

He shook his head and stared into the dregs of his cup, as if the wine was responsible for his mistake. (He’d certainly sampled enough of it!)

He knew the princess wasn’t regal and noble (he’d been in DunBroch during the bear fiasco, after all): but he remembered her being . . . Well . . . Prettier. She’d turned a few heads when wearing the lovely blue silk gown at the competition for her hand.

Could this be the same girl? She looked like some waif from a story. The type who would cut off all their hair and pose as a boy while running away to join the army.

And as for the “Dragon Master,” he looked like a dragon might use him for a toothpick!

Weren’t heroes supposed to be . . . Not that? The princess wasn’t supposed to be fighting to tame the knots in her short, frizzy hair. She wasn’t supposed to have short, knotted hair! The Dragon Master wasn’t supposed to be trying to fix a . . . metal thing with another tool thing. With yet another glassy thing attached to his face.

And where was his dragon?

The whole trip has been wasted! No one would want to hear the story of The Urchin Princess and her true love, The Talking Fishbone.

Unless.

Ramsnort sat up straighter, rubbing his stubble-covered chin.

Unless he made them sound a little better in the stories.

It wasn’t much different that what he’d already done. Just give the public what they’d like to hear.

He laughed to himself. Until the princes looked his way with sharp eyes. Then he remembered how scary she’d been when threatening him with a claymore. He quickly hid his face by taking a drink of his wine.

—

“Something wrong, Mer?” Hiccup’s glanced over from his work on his prosthetic leg. The pin that held each retractable foot in place was rusting and he could no longer turn the appendages in order to change them out. They’d bought a little oil from the market with the hope of restoring it.

Merida was staring into a darkened corner of the taverna suspiciously. Like she suspected that the entrance to Jötunheimr was over there.

“I thought I saw someone that I once tried ta’ kill,” she muttered.

Hiccup blinked owlishly at her. He wasn’t sure why anything Merida said surprised him anymore.

“How many people have you tried to kill?”

“Tae be fair, me tally for ‘succeeded to kill’ is aught. But Ramsnort the Tuneless is the type o’ man who needs killin’. Did ye’ ever wonder how I came to be known as “The Bear Princess?”

“Well, your dad is ‘The Bear King.’ And you turned your mother and brothers into bears. And then you bought a castle worth of bear carvings. I sort of thought your family was rolling with a theme.”

“Me brothers turned themselves intae bears. I dinnae see how I can be blamed for ‘at. All I did was supply the cake, thank ye!”

Hiccup rolled his eyes.

Merida made a sour face as she remembered something from her past. “Back then, there was a bard hanging on in the Dingwall court. I suppose Laird Dingwall hired him to teach Young Dingwall to play the lyre.”

“Young Dingwall learned how to play from someone named Ramsnort the Tuneless? Suddenly so much is clear.”

“After the unfortunate bear incident, Ramsnort wrote an epic poem about the events. Only he got it completely wrong.” Merida took out her knife and a whetstone and began sharpening it.

Hiccup kind of hoped this Ramsnort guy never crossed paths with Merida again. After all, blood was hard to wash out.

“When dad discovered mum as a bear, he thought that the bear ate mum.”

“Despite the fact that there was just her torn dress. Not blood and bits of person anywhere,” Hiccup said.

“He thought he lost the love o’ his life!” Merida said. “Rational thought didnae come intae play. He locked me in a room ta’ keep me safe, and went after her with vengeance in his heart.

“Only that’s nae how Ramsnort told the story. That gormless, tone-deaf ninny wrote that Da’ decided to marry me, since I reminded him o’ Mum!” Merida waved her hands as she spoke, sewing the air with her knife.

“First off: ew,” Hiccup said. “Second off. How could anyone mistake you for your mom? You’re your own person. Your own . . .” He waved his hands at her, as if he could pluck the right words out the air. “Arrow-shooting, palace-burning, vaguely-homicidal, completely wonderful person.”

Merida smiled, ducking her head, cheeks turning pink at the complement. “The homicidal bit. At’s what attracted ye?”

“Absolutely, Mi’lady. One look at the way you nearly destroyed your bedpost with a sword, and I knew you were the girl for me.”

“Dafty,” Merida rolled her eyes. “Anyway, Ramsnort said that I put on a magic bearskin and transformed meself into a bear to escape! Called his epic: “ _The_ _King_ _who_ _Decided_ _to_ _Marry_ _his_ _Daughter_ , _who_ _Turned_ _Herself_ _Into_ _a_ _Bear_ _to_ _Escape_.”

Hiccup winced. “Wow, that’s . . . Certainly a title.”

“Mum stopped me and Da’ both from killin’ him, and banished him from the kingdom. Then she hired bards wi’ actual talent to write the proper version o’ the story. And that’s how I became known as ‘The Bear Princess.’”

The last bit of rust loosened from Hiccup’s prosthetic. He sat the leg aside and grasped Merida’s hand. “On the bright side, that guy is probably thousands of miles away.”

Merida smiled lopsidedly at him. “Yeah, yur prob’ly right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went back and forth on whether to keep Merida in men’s clothing, or give her back a dress. For the time and place where they are, a lady would have worn a dress. OTOH, the women in HTTYD wear pants. 
> 
> From my own experiences in the SCA, I know that dresses are warmer (a wool tube that retains body heat better than pants). And they are headed into a cold climate. 
> 
> I finally decided that since Merida never let wearing a dress hamper her, why not keep wearing one?
> 
> In the late 70’s and early 80’s, a lot of the post-feminist fantasy fiction I read involved a young high born girl cutting off all her hair in preparation to go out into the world disguised as a boy to have adventures. Ramsnort’s thoughts of Merida cutting off her hair to join the army is a nod to that. 
> 
> The slanderous story that Ramsnort the Tuneless tells is an actual Scottish fairy tale. In it a King tells his dying wife that he’ll only marry again if he can find a woman who fits the wife’s dress. He searches unsuccessfully for years. One day his daughter puts on his wife’s dress, and it fits perfectly. The king locks her in her room and starts planning the wedding. The girl’s fairy godmother (or the witch who raised her) gives her a bearskin that will transform her into a bear. She puts it on and runs away into the woods. While living as a bear, she’s nearly killed one day by a prince who is out hunting. She begs for her life and the prince takes her home with him. Because: talking bear. 
> 
> Things get a little Cinderella after that with a ball for the prince’s hand and the Princess sneaking out to change out of her bearskin, then sneaking back in to attend the dance. She gets caught at some point and now that the prince knows his best bear bro is a girl and a princess, he marries her. 
> 
> I can’t find a source now, but I remember reading somewhere that this fairy tale was the loose inspiration for Brave. So there’s that.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Merida reassures Hiccup, Hiccup curbs Merida’s violent tendencies but not her mischievous streak and we reference many Scottish songs.

Hiccup and Merida walked up to a monastery built into a cave overlooking the bay. Merida had a long conversation with one of the monks in which she carefully laid out a few facts, and let him draw his own conclusions.

She told him she was a Scotswoman who had married into a group of Northman traders. She wanted to light a candle to St. Bridget before their trip home. Yes, her husband was one of the Northman. No, he didn’t follow the Christian faith. But he liked to listen to local folklore. Yes, If there was a brother willing to talk with him while she was in the chapel, he might be willing to talk religion (*cough*cough*attempt*conversion*cough*) as well as folklore.

When she returned, Hiccup bowed to the monk before taking his leave.

“The priest called Eret’s blood drinkers Shtriga,” Hiccup said. “I think that might be his catch-all term for anything he’d say was unnatural in those mountains.”

“That’s nice and vague, then. Did he say what to do if we find ourselves attacked by one?”

“He said that they die if you cut off their heads and set them on fire.”

Merida scoffed. “So will everything else.”

“He also said that they can’t cross running water. So if we stay near the east bank of the river, we should be fine.” Hiccup said. “That’ll make Eret happy.”

They walked a while in comfortable silence, holding hands.

“We should probably talk about what we’re going to do once we’re back in the northlands.” Merida said eventually. “Eret has a track record of making plans for us without our say. I’d hate to get back to Scotland only to find we’re held for ransom to one of our fathers, or put into service o’ the Duke o’ Wesealtown.”

“Wasn’t it pronounced Wesselton?” Hiccup asked.

“The point is, we should figure it out now.”

Hiccup raked his hands down his face. “This would be easier if we knew where Toothless was,” he said. “You and Eret both have faith that he’ll find us. I just wish I knew when. It would make planning things so much easier.

Merida put her arm around his shoulders. “Da always said that no battle plan outlasts the first engagement, anyway.”

“Yeah,” Hiccup sighed.

“What’s really bothering ye’ Hiccup?” Merida asked. “I’ve never known you to let anything fash ye’ long. Mum surprised us both with a plan that involved us gettin’ married, and ye just said ‘at might work.’ Eret said ‘yur servin’ the Emperor,’ and ye said ‘I have conditions.’ How is this different?”

“I’ve never been apart from Toothless for this long,” he shrugged. “Before I met him, I was ‘Hiccup the Useless.’ What if that’s all I am without him?”

Merida grasped both sides of Hiccup’s head and pulled him to her so their foreheads were touching. “The Emperor of Constantinople didn’t want ye in his service because of a dragon, ye dafty. He wanted ye for that amazin’ brain o’ yours.”

“The Emperor doesn’t live in Berk,” Hiccup said.

“Who was it that got an entire longship and two score o’ men out o’ The Golden Horn?”

“Me.” Hiccup said, blushing modestly.

“And who was it that I gave me hand and heart to o’ me own free will? Me: who defied centuries of custom and nearly started a war because I dinnae want to be married?”

“Me.” The corner of Hiccup’s mouth quirked up.

“At’s right! And it wasnae because of yur dragon. It was because o’ yur heart.” Merida put a hand on his gambeson, right over his heart.

“Because you seek peace when me first instinct is to reach for me sword. And because ye helped me when I showed up at yur smithy in the middle of the night on the back of a headless horse with no explanation.

“And ye call me yur lady. And you wear the image o’ me dragon stamped intae yur armor over yur heart.” Tears ran down her cheeks as she spoke. “And ye look at me like I hung the moon. An ye made me want to burn doon Constantinople tae find ye when Eret took ye prisoner.”

“And if anyone ever calls ye ‘Useless’ in me presence, I’ll give em’ a right walopin’.” She concluded by smacking her fist into her open palm.

Hiccup swallowed around a knot in his throat, and beamed down at Merida. He knew she cared. But before now he hadn’t really fathomed how much. He wasn’t sure if he was worth that kind of devotion. But she seemed to think so. “I’m being ridiculous, aren’t I?”

“Little bit.” Merida said with a smile. “But I have me moments, too. You’ll have your chance to tell me when I’m being a numpity.”

They walked the rest of the way down to the docks in companionable silence.

Eret seemed relieved at their arrival. “All ready then? We’d best be off.” They were to travel in the boat with Eret, Gunnar, Halvdan and Ragnar. The rest of the men and supplies were divided among eight other boats. Each boat crew rowed the smaller longships up the river single-file.

Once Basarabi vanished behind a bend in the river, Eret relaxed visibly.

“What gives?” Hiccup asked. “Did someone forget to pay their tab at the inn?”

“There was a bard back there, singing songs about the princess.” Eret said carefully, watching Merida like she was a dragon egg about to hatch explosively.

“A bard, ye say?” Merida’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “He wouldn’t happen to be Ramsnort the Tuneless?”

Eret coughed. “I take it you’ve heard of him?”

Merida made for the side of the boat, all the while shouting in multiple languages about inventive ways she’d like to kill a certain bard that ranged from boiling him with his own lute to stuffing him in a barrel of grog and feeding him to a sea dragon.

Ragnar laughed. “Bear Princess? More like Berserker.”

Hiccup grabbed for the hem of her skirts and kaftan, and pulled backward with all his strength. “Mer, no!”

“Mer, yes!” Merida hissed, pulling against his grip on her clothing.

Hiccup reeled her back. “Remember what you said about seeking peace instead of reaching for a sword? I feel like this might be one of those times!”

“Remember what else I said? That man needs killin’!” She waved her arms downriver.

“You can’t just swim back to town!”

“Watch me!”

“Princess, we’ve established that you’re not reasonable. But at least be sensible.” Eret moved to block Merida. “The river is snow melt from the mountains. Ice cold. You’d freeze to death before you made it back. There’s no way this bard can follow us up the river. We’re the last traders to head this way before winter sets in. And if he tries, he’ll probably freeze.”

Merida deflated. Leaning against Hiccup, she rubbed her forehead. “Fine. But if I ever cross paths with that reprobate again . . .” Muttering darkly, she stomped away to the end of the boat to sulk. Hiccup was glad she didn’t pull out her sword and attack the stempost.

“Out of curiosity,” Hiccup wondered. “Was he singing the one about how the Bear King wanted to marry his daughter?”

“No, but if he wrote something like that, I think I see why she wants to kill him,” Eret said. He directed a sly look at Hiccup. “This one was all about how the virtuous, sweet-tempered, chaste princess captured a unicorn.”

Hiccup rolled his eyes.

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Eret said. Anyone who sees the two of you together for five seconds knows that song’s a load of dragon dung.”

“Yeah, the sweet-tempered bit might be overselling things,” Hiccup said.

“I was thinking about the way the two of you look at one another,” Eret said. “Pretty obvious that you’re newlyweds.”

“Ah. The part about Merida being chaste?” Hiccup scratched his neck. “She does more of the chasing —“

“More information than I need, friend!” Eret held his hands up.

“Sorry,” hiccup’s face flamed red. He thought about his earlier conversation with Merida. “While I’ve got a moment of your time, what is your plan once we’re back in the north?”

“Me and the boys are not going back to dragon trapping, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Oh?” Hiccup wasn’t asking. But he was glad to hear it.

“Yeah, word from my old contacts up north is that some smarty figured out how to train dragons. Seems he’s been teaching a whole bunch of others to do the same.”

“Imagine that,” Hiccup said.

“The market for dragons is drying up, anyway.” Eret waved in dismissal. “Maybe me and mine will head over to Scotland and talk to their king. I hear there’s a princess who might have use a good group of reliable sailors.”

“If she dosen’t, then I know there was talk about expanding the dragon school into Scotland. We could definitely use more hands there.” Hiccup nodded.

“Alright then.” Eret shook Hiccup’s hand.

“Fair warning,” Hiccup said. “I’m the moderating influence in our family. If you double cross us, I won’t stop Merida from putting an arrow through your knee.”

Eret laughed, right up until the point he realized that Hiccup was serious.

—

Gunnar sat at the oars with his head tilted in a listening pose as Merida sang in Gaelic along to her dragons humming. His brow furrowed quizzically.

“What is that song?” He asked.

“Eh?” Merida broke off. “It’s called Loch Lomond. It’s a bit o’ melancholy song about missin’ the Highlands.”

“It’s pretty,” Gunnar grunted as he pulled at the oar.

Hiccup glanced up incredulously from his own oar. Merida had a pretty voice and she was good with a story. But when the Terrors sang, it sounded like someone was torturing goats.

Oblivious to his reaction, the two of them continued their conversation.

“The song is about a couple o’ Highland mercenaries gone off to war. One o’ them has been dealt a mortal wound, he tells his friend to return to Scotland along the King’s road. That’s the high road.

“Meanwhile, his spirit will return along the paths o’ the dead. The fairie road. That’s the low road. And because the spirit can travel faster, he’ll be first to return to the Highlands.

“ But — and here’s the sad part. The man who is dyin’ left a sweetheart behind. And although he’ll return to the Highlands, he’ll never see his bonnie lass again.”

“Do you know any happy songs?” Eret cut in.

“There’s one about how the thistle became the symbol for Scotland. But . . . Nae. That one involves a bunch o’ barefoot Vikings. Tae my thinking, ye might not like at’ one.”

Merida gave Eret a look that Hiccup associated with her brothers when they were scheming.

“How about this.” Then she broke into a bawdy Scottish drinking song he was pretty sure Elinor would be furious that she knew.

As she sang, Eret’s eyes got rounder and rounder. His oar slipped from his slack hands and slammed into his chin.

“. . .I don’t know where you been, Lad. But I see you took first prize!” She sang the conclusion of the song.

Eret looked to Hiccup accusingly, rubbing his tender jaw. As if Hiccup’d somehow been responsible for this.

Hiccup shrugged, fighting to keep the grin off his face. If anyone was the corrupting influence in their relationship, it was probably her. He was (as Merida would say) an innocent lamb. A dragon-training, Viking, innocent lamb.

Merida next launched into a new song about a highlander visiting the lowlands.

“. . . The ladies shout as I go by: Donald where's your troosers?”

Hiccup knew that she hadn’t been able to get away with pranks like this when she was under her mother’s thumb. And that now she relished the occasional chance to shock someone.

When she’d concluded this second song, Hiccup put down his oar and scooted next to her. “Your dad taught you those, didn’t he?” He asked.

“Well, nae on purpose,” Merida said. “When I was a wean, I’d sneak intae the hall after bedtime. After mum went off to sleep an Da was deep into his cups, that’s when all the good songs came out. I’d hide under the tables with the dogs, and listen. Mum twisted both o’ our ears when she found out.”

Eret rolled his eyes. “Your princess is something.”

Hiccup grinned at her. “She’s a wonder, isn’t she?”

“Wonder? I don’t wonder that the two of you deserve one another,” Eret said.

When Merida grinned back at Hiccup, it made him feel warm inside. He’d defend her right to act however she pleased against whoever would gainsay her if it put a smile like that on her face.

“Don’t you think you’ve tortured Eret enough for one day?” Hiccup asked her.

“I suppose,” Merida pursed her lips. “How about I sing ‘Caledonia?’ It’s nae as sad as Loch Lomond.”

She launched into another sweet, melancholy song. This one about changing but fearing losing oneself, proving the things that need to be proven, losing friends that you outgrow but finding others. About home calling to you, and about answering the call.

To Hiccup’s mind, it was the perfect song to fit the zeitgeist of the moment. He bowed his head and nodded along, feeling his heart stir almost painfully.

“Let me tell you that I love you  
that I think about you all the time  
Caledonia you're calling me  
now I'm going home . . .”

Without looking his way, Merida laced her fingers with his, and gave them a gentle squeeze.

—

The line of ships stretched out along the ribbon of moonlight reflected in the river. All seemed calm and peaceful.

Right up until the second ship erupted in a ball of flame.

Hiccup, Merida and the rest of the people in their boat sat bolt upright.

“Raise anchor!” Eret called out as he leaped onto the ship’s prow for a better look. “Halvdan, come alongside! Look for survivors, first! The rest of you, arrows at the ready! Keep a weather eye out for trouble!”

Merida crouched against the side of the ship, arrow nocked, scanning the shoreline for potential danger.

They rowed up the river, passing the other ships in the line. She could see the men in the other boats pulling injured men from the river.

“I think everyone is accounted for,” Ragnar said. “A little singed, but nothing serious, considering.”

“Thank Thor!” Eret wiped his forehead.

“No signs of attack from the shore. Could that have been the alcohol we took on as cargo?” Gunnar asked. “I’ve heard of ships blowing up when they take on a bad batch.”

Hiccup stood, his head up, staring intently off into the darkness. As if an attack might come from the skies. “I don’t think that’s it,” he said.

There was a screech from above. Then something large and scaly clamped onto their ship’s sides. The entire boat lifted into the air.

“Dragon!” Gunnar, Halvdan and Ragnar dove over the sides of the ship. Eret moved to follow, but the leather strap of his belt snagged on a boat hook.

Merida ran to Hiccup’s side as Hiccup freed Eret. Then they all made to jump. But by that point, the ship was high in the air, sailing over the Carpathian Mountains.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I read somewhere that the little red stamp on the buckle of Hiccup’s armor in How To Train Your Dragon 2 was a Nadder. I never could get a clear enough glimpse of it to confirm, but that seems like the kind of dorky romantic guesture that Hiccup would make. So I kept the detail, but changed the dragon. 
> 
> None of the songs Merida songs are contemporary to medieval Scotland. Loch Lomand was written after the Scots supported “Bonnie Prince Charlie’s” failed attempt to take back the throne of England. Caledonia was written in the 60’s or 70’s. 
> 
> If you want to find the lyrics to the other two, they will come up if you do a google search for the single line of each that I posted. The first one is variously called “The Drunken Scotsman” and “The Scotsman’s Kilt,” and is actually an Irish drinking song. 
> 
> The second one is called “Donald, Where’s Your Trousers?” I’m pretty sure we can thank the Canadians for it.


	3. Chapter 3

Hiccup looked up at the massive underbelly of the dragon that had picked up their boat. “So that happened.”

“You have a gift for understatement, friend.” Eret crouched low over the deck, staring up at the beast and pulling his knife from his belt. “Any ideas?”

“I need to get out there so I can identify this dragon.” Hiccup pointed out of the boat. “Once I know what we’re dealing with, maybe I can convince it to let us go.”

“Yur going tae need yur armor.” Merida pulled the black dragonscale armor out of their haversack. She helped strap him into it quickly. Then she pulled him into a hasty kiss. 

“Be careful out there, Love.”

He smiled at her. “Love. I like the sound of that, Mi’lady.”

He took a running leap off the side of the ship. Merida dashed to the side, where she could see him as he unfurled his glide flaps from the armor and rode the winds. 

“Girls!” She called to the three female Terrors. They looked at her with focused gaze. She pointed to Hiccup. “Guard!” 

The three female terrors launched themselves off the ship, following Hiccup. Merida settled Dingbat on her shoulder and picked up her bow. “This would have been a better use for those exploding arrows,” she muttered. 

“You’re very protective over him,” Eret pointed with his knife in the direction Hiccup went.

“I didnae think I wanted a husband until I had Hiccup,” Merida said. “I don’t intend tae lose him.” 

“Ragnar was right,” Eret snorted, “You have something of a berserker nature in you. Are you sure your family isn’t descended from the Norse?”

“As far as I know, Clan DunBroch has always been in Scotland.”

“That proves nothing,” Eret said. “Half of Scotland was settled by Vikings.” He perched next to her to watch as Hiccup circled along an updraft. 

—

Ramsnort the Tuneless sat on a pier, staring with bloodshot eyes up the river. Nearly a month ago, a fleet of longships had passed that way, bearing away the Scottish Princess and the Dragon Master. 

They may as well have taken his muse with them. Since their leaving, he’d had no ideas. Not a song, not a sonnet. Not even so much as a limerick or a knock knock joke. 

All he could really do was sit, drink really good red wine and mourn. 

Maybe he should join a monastery. His career might as well be over, but at least he’d have access to good wine. 

Just then a large black shape dropped down behind him on the pier, cutting off his route back to town. 

Ramsnort turned at the loud whump sound that the creature made when it landed. He beheld an enormous black dragon with green eyes. 

He blinked again, rubbed his bloodshot eyes and stared at the dragon. Was it wearing a saddle? 

He gave the bottle of wine he was cradling like an infant a dubious look. 

The dragon stalked forward, like a wildcat stalking it’s prey. It twitched it’s long black tail, calling attention to the slash of red painted across the fin. 

The bard backed away until he ran out of pier. He supposed he could jump, if only he’d learned to swim. 

But just like that, the dragon stopped. It sniffed Ramsnort, and made a face. 

“Well, you don’t have to be insulting.” Ramsnort sniffed his own shirt near the armpit. He did smell a little ripe. 

The dragon pinned him with an intense look, then started to hum. 

Ramsnort blinked. The tune was very familiar. Was that? . . . It sounded like “The Bear Princess And The Dragon Master and The Unicorn.”

Abruptly, he realized that this was the Dragon Master’s dragon. 

“Are you looking for your rider?” He asked the dragon. 

Did it just nod?

Ramsnort pointed up the river. “They sailed that way about a month ago.” 

A cry from overhead drew the dragon’s attention. Ramsnort looked up, and saw a second dark dragon circling overhead. 

He looked back in time to see the black dragon with the red tail fin launch itself into the air. The two dragons flew away, following the river. 

Ramsnort returned to his place on the pier, and took another drink from the bottle. He pictured in his mind what the Dragon Master might look like riding that magnificent beast. 

His eyes widened. He inhaled sharply, then spluttered as he sucked wine down the wrong way. 

He put the bottle down, coughing and spitting wine into the river. When he finished, he rose sharply, leaving his wine bottle behind. 

He needed to get back to his room. Back to his quill and ink pot and his lute. He needed to get this idea down! Oh sweet muse! 

As he ran through the streets, he was already starting to hum. Mentally composing the story. 

“I was a Viking bold. My deeds, though manifold, no skald in song has told. . .”

A princess and a Viking. Their people mortal enemies. (Ignoring the rumors that The Bear King started his career as a sea raider, too). A forbidden love. 

“I long wooed your daughter. My suit you denied.”

An interrupted marriage feast. The parted lovers share a dance in bittersweet memory of their thwarted love.

What then? 

Then - the dragon hidden near the door. The sudden break for freedom. The wedding party gives chase! Too late!

His audience would eat it up! This! This kind of drama was what the public wanted! And he would give it to them. They’d be eating out of his hand! And he’s be eating out of theirs. Preferably steaks! 

As long as he never crossed paths again with The Bear Princess, he could happily tell of her adventures (from his own point of view) for the rest of his life. 

And he’d live happily ever after!

—

Hiccup found an updraft and glided in a circle so that he could see the dragon that had flown off with their boat. 

He was already expecting it to be a titan class. But when the moonlight revealed it’s form, he gasped. 

That was a lot of heads. 

He’d never tried to train a dragon with that many heads. 

He circled back to the boat, coming in low so the dragon wouldn’t see him. Merida’s Terrors followed him in a V formation like a flock of geese.

“Seven heads!” He told Merida, ripping his helm off. He sat down on one of the rowing benches, rubbing his forehead in distress. 

“At’s a lot,” Merida made a face. 

Eret scratched his head. “How does it get anything done if it has to do everything by committee?”

“Probably just like me triplet brothers: one heid is the heid . . . Er . . . Heid. Yur trick wi’ touching their snouts isnae gunna work here,” Merida said. “It has more snouts than we have hands.”

“Maybe get it to fight with itself long enough that we can escape?” Eret suggested.

“That’s not a bad idea,” Hiccup said. He picked up Dingbat and began to gently scrub the dragon against the rowing bench. 

Dingbat squawked in protest. 

“What’re ye doin’?” Merida made a face.

“Covering up our scent. It’ll confuse it and maybe buy us a couple minutes to hide.” Hiccup explained. 

Merida nodded. “Girls! Mark yur territory.” The other dragons started rubbing themselves against the side of the ship the way a cat would. 

—

The dragon dropped the ship onto a ledge outside a mountain cave. It landed next to the boat, two heads snaking around the fore and aft ends of the ship. Four of the remaining heads slithered over the raised stern, and crept down the ship’s deck. A final head aloft, supervising the others. 

When the heads didn’t find any humans on the boat, they looked at one another in confusion. The whole ship smelled like dragons, not humans.

A hissing sound drew the dragon’s attention. A single human stood at the edge of the cliff, sword out. 

The heads held a hissing debate. Rightmost head thought they should just eat the human. 

Second from right thought they should kill first, then eat. Third from left noted that the human’s sword was the hissing thing.

Middle wondered if the human thing was human, since it smelled like dragon. It seemed to be covered in scales. Leftmost head voted that it was a dragon. 

The hissing stopped. Then a circle of fire erupted from the creature. 

‘Dragon. ‘ Half the heads concluded. 

‘Ooh pretty!’ All the heads hissed at once. 

Since they had no plans to kill and eat another dragon (not squishy enough), second from left voted that they return to the cave and have a nap. The vote was put before the committee and all the heads voted aye. 

The dragon squeezed into the cave, grumbling about the lack of humans on the boat and debating where they all might have gone. 

Middle thought the tiny dragon must have eaten them all. But no one believed that head.

Second from left swore they all jumped out into the river. 

Well, what did they expect? That was what they got when rightmost head started chucking fireballs before they could launch the trap! The humans woke up and swam away!

—

Once the seven headed dragon retreated, Merida, Eret and the Terrors peered up from the edge of the cliff. 

“I can’t believe that worked!” Eret said. He stamped down on Hiccup’s shield beneath his feet. It continued to hold him aloft, anchored into the face of the cliff, with barely a twitch. “How many toys to you have built into this thing?”

Hiccup extinguished his blade, raised his visor and removed a gauntlet. Then he held his hand out to help Merida up. “As many as I thought I needed. The number keeps growing.”

“I would have felt better if the Princess had taken the shield to stand on instead and let me hang on by my fingers.” Eret said. 

Merida’s Terrors circled her, braying in agitation. “Of the two o’ us, I’m the better climber, anyways. And if I fell, I have a grapnel built into me bow. And me terriers could pull me to safety. Ye couldnae save yourself if ye fell.”

“Point to the Princess,” he conceded as he followed them back over the cliff top. “That trick with the sword seemed to work.”

“Some dragon mothers breathe fire to soothe their young,” Hiccup said as he pulled his shield back up and wound the grapnel back. “I figured, if it works for them, why couldn’t it work for me? I use dragon saliva and zippleback gas to make it burn. Same as Merida’s arrows.”

“Ingenious!” Eret said. He went back to the ship and began sorting through the cargo. “We should prioritize warm clothing and food, but we might be able to take some of the silver. If we come across a village, we can pay for a wagon or sleigh or something that will get us back to our ships.”

“We should move quickly, in case the dragon comes back.” Hiccup glanced uneasily at the mouth of the cave. 

“What kind o’ dragon was that?” Merida asked. 

“I don’t know.” Hiccup shook his head. “The dragon book doesn’t say anything about dragons with seven heads.”

“The animals are different this far south,” Eret said. “Stands to reason that the dragons would be as well.”

“I wonder what it’s shot limit is?” Hiccup rubbed his chin. 

“Now’s nae the time, Love.” Merida strapped a pack to Hiccup’s back, then hung the shield over it. “There looks like a mountain goat path down the side over there. We should all tie ourselves tae the same rope. At’ way if one o’ us fall, the others can pull us back.”

“Since you’re the one with the most mountaineering experience, you lead the way.” Hiccup said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ramsnort’s new opus is based on a couple of Mericcup gifsets where Hiccup shows up at her wedding to talk her out of getting married to someone else and steal her away, as well as several poems along the same lines 
> 
> I threw in a line of each of the poems. 
> 
> “I was a Viking Bold,” comes from “The Skeleton in Armor,” by Longfellow. In it a Viking kidnaps a (willing) princess whose father wouldn’t let them get married.
> 
> “I long wooed your daughter, my suit you denied,” comes from the poem Lochinvar by Sir Walter Scott (who was a Scott). It’s about a brave knight who shows up at the wedding of his true love and the coward she’s being forced to marry, and steals away the (again willing) bride.
> 
> And thus, Ramsnort resumed writing his Real Person FanFiction.
> 
> During early production of Brave, there was some talk about hinting that Fergus had been a sea raider in his youth before becoming leader of DunBroch as a nod to the Viking side of Scottish history. That’s one of the things that didn’t make it into the movie.
> 
> It was fun to write this chapter, with Hiccup saving the day.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I lost the thread of a coherent plot somewhere along the way. This feels more like a series of vignettes. I’m not sure I’m quite happy about that.

Something woke Hiccup in the night. Some sound. Like the crying of a child. It seemed to inch it’s icy fingers down his spine and work it’s way back up to his heart, squeezing it. 

He slitted his eyes open. Merida lay next to him, eyes closed. But her fingers inched to her quiver as well. Her Terrors circled them in a protective ring, tails inward and snouts out.

He pretended to stretch, craining his neck. Across the fire from where they lay, stood a pale lady dressed in a white diaphanous gown. 

She was consumptively beautiful.

Warning bells went off in the back of Hiccup’s mind. The last time he’d been struck by a woman’s beauty in that way, it had been a fairy queen set on stealing him back to fairyland. 

He looked harder, and saw past the surface beauty to the little glaring details. 

She carried a small, dirty, crying child over one shoulder. Her lips were red because they were stained with blood. 

How did she get into their camp? Wasn’t Eret supposed to be standing watch?

Hiccup spotted Eret, standing transfixed as if hypnotized. She was moving toward him like a cat stalking it’s prey. 

Hiccup leaped to his feet, igniting his sword. Merida must have taken that as a signal to move, because she was suddenly right there, bow out and flaming arrow nocked. 

“Eret!” She called out a warning to him. 

“Whazzit?” Eret opened his groggy eyes. Then snapped to attention when he took in the scene before him. He fell back and crab crawled away from the lady. She advanced toward them, but Merida loosed a flaming arrow at her. 

Her Terrors swarmed the lady, sending out gouts of flame as well. 

The lady dropped the crying child with a hiss as her flimsy gown ignited. With a wail, she retreated into the night. 

Merida darted forward to check on the child. 

“What was that?” Eret panted, gesturing into the night with his knife. 

“I ken that thing is the reason yur friends didnae come back from these mountains.” Merida said over her shoulder. 

“A priest back in Basarabi called it a Shtriga. That’s your . . . Blood drinking undead corpse that is also possibly a witch.” Hiccup said. 

“Well, It’s a matchstick now,” Eret said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Sorry about that!”

“It happens.” Hiccup said, remembering how he’d been mesmerized by the fairy. 

“The child isnae hurt. Just a bit shaken,” Merida said. Hiccup peered over her shoulder, into the face of a brown-eyed, swarthy-skinned toddler boy. The boy seemed fascinated with Merida’s hair. He pulled at a single twisting red curl with his chubby fingers. 

She settled the boy over her own shoulder and set to rubbing comforting circles over his back. “He had to come from somewhere.”

Hiccup smiled at the picture they made. 

“We’ll look in the morning,” Eret said. “For now I think it’s safer near the fire.” Hiccup extinguished his sword and sat cross-legged. He doubted any of them would sleep after that. 

—

The goat track led to a road, which led to a seemingly-abandoned farmhouse. Eret went inside, only to back out, shaking his head. 

“That thing was definitely here,” he said. “Don’t let the boy go in there. He doesn’t need to see what happened to his family.” 

Merida carried the child down the road out of sight of the farm while Hiccup and Eret buried the remains of the farmer and his wife and burned the slaughtered livestock. They found the child’s clothing, and a few provisions. Then they set out again. 

“The communities in these mountains are all built around their churches,” Eret said. “They’re not very welcoming of strangers. Our best bet may be to drop the babe on the doorstep of the church in the next town we find and keep moving.”

— 

Merida hiked back from the town with the babe still balanced on her hip, playing with her hair and laughing. 

“You were supposed to leave the boy with the church, Princess!” Eret said. 

“I ken that. But they won’t take him.” Merida looked conflicted. “He’s too small to work, so the priest I spoke with said that none o’ the local farmers would take on an extra mouth tae feed.

“He said we should take him to an orphanage in the valley.”

“That’s out of our way!” Eret huffed. 

Merida hugged the toddler to herself. “They didnae care who his parents were. They didnae even know his name!” 

Eret pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re getting attached. Don’t do that, Princess. It’ll make it harder to leave him.”

“Let her alone.” Hiccup put his arms around Merida and the toddler. “If you don’t want to go find an orphanage, then the only other choice is to take him with us. No sense grousing about it!”

“Fine!” Eret rolled his eyes. 

Merida leaned into Hiccup’s embrace. “Incidentally, the locals call that seven headed dragon a Balaur. There’s lots o’ legends about how they kidnap fair maidens and fight with the noble knights tryin’ tae rescue them.”

“Who are the noble knights trying to rescue? The dragon or the fair maiden?” Hiccup asked. 

“If they are anything like you two, the fair maiden already rescued herself, and the knight is trying to keep her from killing the dragon.” Eret snapped. 

Merida and Hiccup looked at each other, then shrugged. “Accurate.” Hiccup said. 

—

A big black shape dropped down beside their fire the next night. 

All three of them rose, swords at the ready. Then Hiccup recognized the pair of green eyes blinking back at him. 

“Toothless!” He dropped his sword and ran to the dragon. “Oh Bud! I have missed you!” He threw his arms around Toothless’s neck, pressing his face into the dragon’a scaly nose. 

“That’s the first bit of good news we’ve had in a while,” Eret said with a relieved sigh. 

A second dark shape dropped down next to Merida. 

“Hello, Lassie!” Merida smiled, sheathing her sword and giving the toddler on her hip a bounce to settle him higher. “I knew we’d be seeing ye again!”

The female fury rested it’s chin on Merida’s shoulder, blinking quizzically down at the toddler. 

“He nae our hatchling,” Merida explained. “Human weans take longer tae grow than at’.”

“Dah!” The toddler burbled happily as he patted Lassie’s nose. “Dah! Dah! Dah!” 

Lassie looked surprised. Then brought her head down level with the boy. He laughed, then launched himself out of Merida’s arms. 

Merida gasped, but Lassie clamped down on the back of the boy’s shirt, lowering him to his wobbly legs. 

“Bah!” He giggled, toddling in unsteady steps until he could reach her scaly gray head. Then he fell against her. 

Lassie nuzzled the boy, and rumbled contentedly. He giggled in response. Then he settled over her neck, as if riding piggy-back style. 

Merida watched this with her mouth open in shock. She looked up at Hiccup. “Do ye see?”

“Yeah!” Hiccup said, eyes wide with wonder. “That works better than the hand to the nose trick.”

Eret looked from Hiccup to Merida, to the toddler and female Night Fury. “What?”

“We thought Lassie’d never bond with a human.” Merida said. “Given how abused she’d been.”

“But it looks like Lassie may have chosen her person.” Hiccup continued. “She just chose one that happens to be small and harmless.”

“Start em’ early and raise em’ right.” Merida agreed. 

“Soooooooo? We’re keeping the baby?” Eret said slowly. Lassie narrowed her eyes at Eret. 

“Yeah.” Hiccup smiled at Merida. She answered with a smile of her own. “Lassie says so.”

The female Night Fury settled the toddler on the ground and stalked toward Eret, eyes narrowed. 

Eret held his hands up in a surrender pose. “Look, Dragon. I’m sorry about capturing you.”

Lassie looked unimpressed. 

“And?” Merida prompted. 

“And leaving you in a cage for years,” Eret continued. 

“And?” Merida prompted again.

“I realize now that I was wrong. Please allow me to make amends.” He glanced from Lassie to Toothless and Hiccup to Merida and her Terrors to the little boy.

Lassie continued to glare, invading his personal space. When she was about nose/to-nose with Eret, she suddenly licked a wet stripe across his head. 

Hiccup, Merida and the toddler all laughed. They were joined by the Terror’s chittering and Toothless’s draconian chortle. 

“Ugh!” Eret said, trying to wipe away the sticky film. 

“Don’t bother.” Hiccup said. “It doesn’t wash off. We’ve tried.”

Eret glared at Lassie. Then smiled, in spite of himself. “So, peace?”

Lassie nodded regally. 

“Then I suppose this boy needs a name,” Eret said. 

“Her grandfather’s name was Robert?”  
Hiccup suggested, pointing at Merida. 

“His mum’s name was Valka. So . . . Valgur?” Merida asked. 

“What about Eret? It was my father’s name. I come from a long line of Erets.”

“Godfred? Ólaf?” Hiccup threw out. 

“Somerled? Reginald?” Merida added. 

“Íver?” Eret suggested. 

Lassie cooed at that. 

“Íver?” Merida asked. 

The dragoness nodded. 

Hiccup, Merida and Eret traded looks across the fire. “Íver.” They chorused. 

“Íver Drekson,” Eret added. 

Merida and Hiccup looked at him in surprise. 

“Well, it’s not like the two of you even share a family name.” He rolled his eyes. 

—

“Are ye changin’ the babby with a bit o’ pladdie?” Merida stopped to watch Hiccup, her hands on her hips. “Where did ‘at come from?”

“Point of fact: This is my tartan. Your dad gave it to me.” Hiccup said without looking up. He was a genius who had built a glide suit. A dirty diaper wouldn’t beat him. “He said to wrap the baby in an ell of tartan.”

“Da’ gave ye a seven-ell pladdie?” Merida yelped. “I could have used that when I was wearing naught but yur clothes! Where have ye been hiding it?”

“It was under the bag of apples. I forgot we had it.” Hiccup said, scratching his neck sheepishly. 

“Why dinnae I get one o’ those ells for me shawl?”

“You have your own tartan just like it back in Scotland,” Hiccup said. “You have all the tartan back in Scotland.”

“So? I’m yur wife! I want me marriage shawl! The one gave tae me special by me husband!” She crossed her arms. 

Hiccup blinked at her. “Oh. This is one of those important traditions.”

“Aye!” Merida said. 

“Well then, get the sewing kit. We may as well take care of this right now.” He sighed as Merida turned to rummage through their packs for their scissors, needle and thread.

“Lesson number one, Íver,” he said to the toddler. “Don’t get between a woman and her wedding traditions.” He quirked an eyebrow at Merida. “Even the most practical woman gets a little funny about them.” 

—

“If Lassie won’t carry anyone on her back but the Littlest Dragon Lord, how are we all going to catch up to our ships?” Eret asked, motioning to Lassie and Íver. “The ships have too much of a head start, thanks to all these delays.”

The toddler was now sitting under Lassie’s wing, playing peek-a-boo with Dingbat. He would pull the dragoness’s wing membrane over his face, then pull it back and shout “boo,” before dissolving into giggles. 

Hiccup rubbed his chin in thought as he sat against Toothless’s scaly side. “I have an idea that might work.”

—

With Eret gone, the remaining crew elected Halvdan to lead them. 

They moved with all haste up the Dniestr river until there was no more river to paddle. Then they used logs to roll and drag the longships overland for miles until they came to the Bug. From there they paddled to the Vistula north of Warsaw, stopping at trading posts along the way. 

In Gdańsk, they traded their remaining six smaller Karvi ships for a single Drakkar longship capable of navigating the Baltic and North Seas. 

They’d just pulled out of Gdańsk, into the Baltic when a large black shape dropped from the clouds. 

Remembering how they’d lost Eret, the men scrambled for their crossbows to defend against a potential dragon attack. 

The shape coalesced into a Karvi, held aloft by ropes and carried by two dark dragons. The dragons swooped low, then released the ropes, dropping the ship into the water with a splash.

Halvdan squinted in the bright sunlight. He was surprised when Eret popped up at the side of the ship. 

“Ho there, Halvdan!”

Halvdan laughed incredulously. “Ho there, yourself, Eret! We thought you were lining a dragon’s gullet after what happened.”

“Fortunately, I had an expert on dragons with me,” Eret said. Glancing up at Toothless.

Hiccup looked down from Toothless’s saddle where he and Merida sat with Íver and the small dragons. “Looks like everything worked out, so we’re going to go on ahead. Look us up when you get to the barbaric archipelago.”

“Will do!” Eret waved a salute. “I thought we would stop in Arendale first. I have family there.” 

“Yeah, you might want to keep an eye on your left sock while you’re there.” Hiccup said. 

“Sure?” Eret gave them a funny look. 

The dragons wheeled around and darted across the open water. There was a boom sound as they sped up. In the blink of an eye, they disappeared over the horizon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a reminder: The seven ell tartan tradition is taken from Laura Underwood’s tales of Keltora, it’s not an actual highland tradition. 
> 
> I’ve just got the epilogue to go, which I shall post today.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s just a short bit of story left. I didn’t feel like making anyone wait for it. So without further ado: the epilogue.

Merida sat in the rocking chair, Íver asleep on her lap, wrapped in his bit of DunBroch tartan and clutching a stuffed toy bear that Odin (in the guise of Stoick with Elinor’s help) had left in a helmet.

She’d been surprised when Toothless and Lassie dumped them in the square in Berk and took off along with the other dragons. Then Hiccup explained that Snoggletog was also hatching season. So there was a good chance that they’d be returning with a wee chubby Night Fury or three.

Gobber coughed, pulling her out of her thoughts and reminding her that Íver wasn’t the only one listening to her. She glanced around at the the cluster of Vikings who sat mesmerized at her feet, then picked up the thread of her story.

“One by one, the suitors failed to string Odysseus’s bow. As Penelope knew they would.

“Then Odysseus in his disguise asked for a chance. The suitors mocked him. But secretly they feared that this beggar would prove himself, and so win Penelope’s hand.”

Hiccup came over to listen. He gave Merida an incredulous look. “You’re telling Íver about how Odysseus killed all Penelope’s unwanted suitors with his bow and arrows?”

“He’s too young tae understand the words,” Merida said. “It’s all in the tone o’ voice I use.”

“This is your favorite part, isn’t it?” Hiccup crossed his arms.

“Aye.” Merida grinned.

“Let her finish, son.” Stoick expertly transferred Íver to his own shoulder, settling him with a gentle pat on the back.

Hiccup rolled his eyes. “Carry on.” He sat cross legged on the hearth next to Snotlout, seemingly content to be both accepted and welcome.

Merida smiled at him, and took up the thread of her story. “Odysseus strung the bow as easily as a minstrel strings a lyre. Then he launched his first arrow through all twelve axe heads.”

—

End

 

So I think this is it for my journey with these characters. I’ve thought that before, but this time I think i’m losing interest in this particular universe that I’ve created just as this story arc is coming to a natural conclusion.

I headcanon that the family passed through DunBroch on the way to Berk. There Elinor told them that they had a proxy ceremony to make everything official and make all the gods happy (Norse, Celtic and Christian.)

It was a very messy ceremony, during which the twins and triplets gave most of the wedding party food poisoning in a prank gone wrong.

With Fergus, the other clan lords and Gobber left in charge, Hiccup’s proxy during the wedding was the triplets standing on each other’s shoulders and wearing the breast helmet. Merida’s proxy was Fishlegs in a dress.

Fergus is quite proud that he rose to the occasion to plan the wedding. It’s now one of his favorite stories, right up there with the time he lost his leg.

Both Hiccup and Merida are glad they missed their own ‘official’ wedding. In the future, they’ll tell their kids that the vows they exchanged on their own that sunset by the fire falls was their real wedding.

Hiccup eventually finds Valka. Stoick passes the chiefship fully to Astrid and Snotlout and helps Valka run a dragon sanctuary on her iceberg. They call it “Haddock’s home for injured friends.”

Íver comes to call Merida his “bear mum,” and Lassie his “dragon mum.” He grows up thinking he’s part dragon. He thinks of both Toothless and Lassie’s hatchlings and Hiccup and Merida’s other kids all as brothers and sisters

Hiccup and Merida start a second school for dragons in Scotland, where Merida occasionally helps her brothers learn to rule the kingdom. While Harris is officially the king, no one can actually tell the triplets apart. So they switch out depending on who feels like sitting on the throne that day. They consider it to be one of their finest pranks.

Eventually when dragon overcrowding becomes a problem in all the dragon-friendly territories, Hiccup and Merida find the entrance to the hidden world and start a new village near it. After much consideration (throwing out names until Lassie approves) they decide to call it Drakheim. Eret and his men as well as riders from Berk and a fair number of Scots from all three clans help to settle it.

They all spend a lot of time bringing rescued dragons back to release into the hidden world.

The dragons migrate freely between dragon-friendly territories and the hidden world. When raiders and trappers come looking, the dragons hide in the Hidden World and the humans pretend that they don’t know what the raiders and trappers are talking about (Dragons? What dragons?).

Ramsnort the Tuneless continues to fabricate stories of The Bear Princess and The Dragon Master of the North from the safety of Constantinople until one day when he’s cornered on the streets by a bunch of Varengian Guardsmen wearing both Horned Helmets and Tartans.

They inform him that they take exception to his stories about their chieftain. After that, his muse inspires him to exclusively write songs about a completely fictional Dragon Master of the East and his ruthless warrior maid, The Tiger Princess. A girl who cuts her hair to disguise herself as a boy and join the army. There are lots of gravity-defying martial arts in his new stories. He calls the first one “Crouching Dragon, Hidden Tiger.”

One day, when Hiccup and Merida are white-haired and stooped with age, they climb on Toothless’s back and fly away. Legends say that they went away to the Hidden World, and once they passed away, their spirits were reborn as dragons.

If you go to the Outer Hebrides today, you can take a ferry to Drakheim. The ferry is run by a man named Rory Eretson. When the rough seas inevitably make you sick and you vomit over the side, he’ll laugh at you.

Once there you can talk to the local barman, who is also the island chieftain, a man with insanely curly red hair and green eyes named Ian MacGuyver (literally the clan of Íver), at a pub called the laughing drake. He’ll tell you how there were once dragons in the world. But where they went, no one can say.

Then, after the short tourist season. When the seas are too rough for even Bear Grylls to stomach and only the locals are left, the dragons come back.

In among the Monstrous Nightmares and Zippelbacks and Thunderdrums and Gronkles and Nadders are tiny little Terrible Terrors that help the locals herd their sheep.

And presiding over them all are flocks of Night Furies.


End file.
